All Alone
by E. Clay
Summary: Sam and Dean miss each other.


**Title:** All Alone

**Genre:** General/Angst

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Sam and Dean miss each other.

**Disclaimer:** Sam, Dean and John Winchester don't belong to me. They belong to Eric Kripke and The CW Network. I make no money off this story.

Sam looked around the bedroom in the tiny loft apartment that was to be his home for at least the semester. His things barely filled the already small room. A wobbly card table stood up against one wall; on it was an e-machine not hooked up to any internet, besides the table was a black office chair, and on the other side of the room on the grey and blue carpet that looked like it should be in an office instead of someone's home was an aero bed. He also had a small table and lamp. In the closet was a small plastic dresser with three drawers. The rest of the apartment including the even smaller upstairs room, kitchen, bathroom, and space that could be called a miniature living room if someone thought hard enough about it, was more or less void of anything that belonged to him, except for a few dishes in the kitchen and toiletries in the bathroom.

Sam walked over to the card table, sat down on the office chair and gazed out the window. He couldn't ever remembering feeling so alone in his entire life. The people at housing told him he should consider himself lucky. He didn't have a roommate this semester and only had to pay for one room, but at the moment Sam wouldn't have minded a roommate. He regretted his decision not to live in the dorms. He really wanted someone to talk to.

It was his first day at Stanford. He had flown out here himself and paid a cab to take him to his housing complex. He had spent the majority of the day exploring the campus, as he never got a guided tour of it like most of the students did with their parents over Summer, and then unpacking and assembling his cheap furniture.

He had mailed most of his things and was grateful to find them sitting in his apartment when he got here. He had kept himself more than occupied throughout the day but was now left with nothing but his thoughts, and they dwelled on Dean. He couldn't ever remember missing his big brother so much.

He wanted Dean in the room with him talking about something unimportant, blasting his mullet rock music, or even teasing him. He wouldn't have even minded screaming at his father, so long as his brother was there to break up the fight. Throughout his entire life Sam had never done anything alone. Dean was always right beside him and Sam found it utterly depressing to be alone right now. He was in his first apartment and at college, and Dean wasn't here to experience such an important part of his life with him.

It was weird having a place entirely to himself; even just having a room to himself was bizarre. The only time Sam and Dean ever had separate rooms was when their mother was still alive, so for as long as Sam could remember he and Dean shared a bedroom and always when they were traveling shared the same bed. On their hunts even up to the most recent one it was one motel room for the three of them. John always got one bed and he and Dean shared the other, or one slept on the floor, which wasn't too often. Sam thought he should be ecstatic about having some privacy, quietness and space when instead the prospect made him uneasy.

He lay down on the aero bed. When he shifted his weight it slid across the floor slightly. For anyone else in the world the bed would be about as uncomfortable as could be, but for a traveler like Sam it was tolerable, except for the absence of another body in it, or across from him on another bed.

Sam looked over to the other side of the bed. He would miss his brother making stupid faces at him or his mouth half open and snoring softly. When he woke up in the morning it wouldn't be to Dean being obnoxious and forcing him awake by pinching his nose and covering his mouth, or socking him with a pillow. It would be to a crappy alarm clock. Sam wondered how long it would take to get used to not having Dean around. At the moment he wasn't sure he would get used to this.

Sam listened to a loud creaking noise come from upstairs. The apartment complex was old, and the rational part of him knew that the noises he had been hearing since he got here this afternoon was just the apartment settling and then maybe his overactive and lonely imagination, but a huge part of him wanted to call Dean and tell him he thought his place was haunted. Dean would drive over as soon as he could and then he wouldn't miss him so much.

Dean sat at a bar. A bottle of beer in one hand and a cute and perky cocktail waitress's phone number written on a napkin in his other hand. He grinned playfully at the waitress. He looked at the phone number on the napkin and then put it in his pocket. He recited the number back to her. She laughed at him, amused that he had memorized it so quickly. He grabbed the waitress's now empty tray and pranced around with it, pretending to be a server. The woman started giggling and went to swipe the tray away from him, but before she could do that, John returning from the restroom came up behind him, took the tray away from his son and handed it back to the woman.

"Let's get out of here." He said firmly, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah ok." Dean said beyond humiliated. He looked at the waitress. She smiled at him uneasily and headed to a crowded table of people.

"Dean you ought to have more respect for women." John began sternly. "The way you were looking at her. She could be someone's mother."

"Well, she's one hot momma then." Dean laughed, but John wasn't amused.

Dean sighed and followed his father to his truck. This is how it had been for three weeks now since Sam left for school. John barely let Dean out of his sight. There was no more going out by himself and cruising bars or swinging girls. Dean almost felt like a little kid again. John lectured and scolded him on everything from how he was dressed to how he salted and burned the body of the last ghost they had encountered.

Tonight had been a rare occasion. Dean hadn't been to a bar in weeks, or had any down time for that matter. He had just wanted to go out and have some fun, when John insisted on coming along. Dean had really wanted to go alone but couldn't be disrespectful to his dad and tell him he didn't want him to come, so the two of them had gone to the bar of Dean's choice. It was a young person's bar. John obviously didn't like it and to Dean's utter dismay they had stayed less than thirty minutes.

Dean listened uncomfortably to his father lecture him on women; how to treat them and the types he should be thinking about. He couldn't believe he was having this type of conversation with his father, especially when he was already in his twenties. He was glad John hadn't always kept an eye on him, or been that aware of the girls Dean had been with, none of them had been even close to the type of woman his father was describing.

When Dean and John got home, Dean said good night and headed to his room. He lay down on Sam's bed.

"Man, I miss you little brother." He spoke to the ceiling. John had kept the both of them so busy that Dean barely had time to sit and think about Sam. Dean had appreciated it at first, but now was upset over it. He hadn't even really gotten the chance to say bye to his kid brother. Two days before Sam was scheduled to leave for Stanford, John stumbled onto a hunt a few states over and insisted Dean follow him. Dean didn't even know who drove Sam to the airport. He had just assumed that Sam had made it to school all right and was doing fine in his classes.

Dean thought about the conversation he had just had with their father. Sam wouldn't have put up with it. He would have told their dad to stay out of Dean's private life. He would have told him that Dean was an adult and didn't need to be bossed around, especially in regards to the types of girls he chose to spend his time with. It was something Dean always admired in his little brother. He stood up to their father. He wasn't afraid to be his own person, and in his own way Sam stuck up for Dean as well.

Dean sat up and walked to a small desk in his room. Sam had left a sheet of folded paper there; on it was his Stanford address. It was the only thing Dean had to contact his brother. Sam didn't have a phone and hadn't attempted to make a collect call to them yet.

Dean grabbed a few loose sheets of paper and started to write.

_Hey Dumb Ass. Thought I should send you a note, see what you're up to and all, bet you don't miss us at all you little bastard. Well, I don't miss you either. Hope you're not getting into too much trouble up there, cuz I don't know when I'll be around there. Dad's doing fine if you care…_

Dean tore out the sheet of paper with his scribble on it and ripped it up. He didn't know how much more lame writing letters could be. He stood up and looked at the two beds again. It was weird not seeing Sam's long body sprawled out on one of the beds, with a magazine being held on his chest, and a pillow bunched up behind his head, or Sam sitting cross legged, a text book on his lap, and paper, pencils, and pencil shavings scattered around him.

Dean pulled Sam's bed out from the wall. He looked at the bottom of the wall, right before it turned into carpet. _Dean and Sam were here, _was carved there, each of them had written their own name. It was something the two of them had always done on all their travels.

"Well Sammy you're the one who ran away, guess I should move on too." Dean pulled out a knife he always kept in his pocket and started to scratch out his brother's name. "Screw you for being so selfish." He said bitterly, covering up the last of his brother's marks.

When he was done he kicked the frame of Sam's bed and ripped the mattress and box off of it. Once finished with that he retrieved John's tool box and took the bed frame down. He left the bed frame, box, and mattress leaning up against his bedroom wall. He would dispose of everything in the morning.

He looked around the room once more. He and Sam had very few possessions; weapons and holy water aside and there was nothing in the room to remind Dean of his stupid little brother. He smiled in relief, happy to be free of the ingrate. He looked at the sheet of paper Sam had left him. He tore it into pieces. He doubted he would ever need Sam's address, but if he did it wouldn't matter that he didn't have the paper, as Dean had already memorized what was written on it.

**The End**

Thanks for reading. Please review. I wrote this story a long, long time ago. It was actually a challenge I found somewhere about Sam and Dean being temporarily separated and missing each other. I was going through my stories and thought I would finally post it.


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